


Obedience and The Magic Word

by KanarandTarkaleanTea



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Light BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-27
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:53:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KanarandTarkaleanTea/pseuds/KanarandTarkaleanTea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Garak doesn't buy Bashir's excuses - and decides to teach the young doctor a lesson.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Obedience and The Magic Word

**Author's Note:**

> Usual Caveats - No ownership implied, just playing with the characters.

It was late, a little after 0300, and the hallways were quiet. Dr. Bashir took a deep breath as he got off the turbolift, and with a concerted effort tried to force his heart rate down.  
*This is foolish* he thought, the phrase becoming a mantra as he walked towards Habitat Ring Level 3. Stopping outside of door 901, he pulled the collar of his uniform away from his throat- it was an old uniform, and felt extremely tight and confining.  
“Medical door override, authorization Bashir 1 Alpha  
The room was dim and warm, and as he crept between the shadows, he could feel little beads of perspiration prickling his skin. The quiet of the room was momentarily disturbed by a rustling from the direction of the bedroom, causing him to freeze. He counted his breaths… 1…2…3… but there was no further noise. As his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, he could see a large form wrapped in a blanket on the bed. Bashir’s mouth was dry.  
He tip-toed quietly towards the sleeping form, his own breathing sounding loudly in his ears. He was walking through the doorway when suddenly he was pressed with his face to the wall, his neck turned painfully to the side. There was something cold pressed under his Adam’s apple and his shoulders were crushed under a heavy palm. He hadn’t heard a thing and had not been prepared for the assault.  
“Don't you know it’s very rude to come into someone’s quarters unannounced, doctor? Not to mention dangerous,” Garak whispered in his ear. “It’s a good thing I heard you come in, or I fear I might have shot you before you even had a chance to say anything. And then where would that leave us?”  
“Garak, let go of me.” Bashir struggled against the Cardassian’s hands, but they held him firm.  
“I’m afraid not, my dear boy. Not until I have some answers.” Garak pressed more firmly into him, prohibiting the doctor from taking anything but the shallowest of breaths. “So, it would seem they’ve finally gotten to you.”  
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ the doctor responded, the words raspy and hard to say with his neck turned as it was.  
Garak leaned in closer. The doctor could feel the length of the Cardassian’s form pressed behind him and could smell the spicy scent of his skin. Bashir shivered as the tailor’s breath traced the shell of his ear. “I don’t believe you.”  
“Garak, this is ridiculous. You’ve been through a tough time. I was just checking to make sure your vitals were stable.”  
“My, how touching.”  
The sound of their ragged breathing filled the room. The Cardassian’s weight didn’t lessen. Tensing his muscles, Bashir attempted again to escape, but felt the first prick of the knife at his throat and the unmistakable feeling of blood dripping into the hollow at the base of his neck.  
“Oh, I wouldn’t do that if I were you. This blade hasn’t been used for a long time, but it is very sharp.”  
“One of your relics from your time in the Obsidian Order?” Bashir was unable to keep the scorn from entering his voice.  
“Now doctor, do you really think I was part of such an… illustrious… organization?” Garak purred his words, but the menace was still there. The doctor closed his eyes and tried to force himself not to feel the all-to-familiar flutter in his stomach. *Not now* he told himself, but his body refused to listen and he felt himself becoming aroused at the close proximity of the Cardassian.  
How often had he imagined being this close to the tailor? How many nights had he lied awake, unable to get the sound of Garak’s voice out of his head? Unable to sleep because whenever he closed his eyes, the image of the Cardassian’s intense blue gaze would cause his breathing to hitch and his body to respond in ways contrary to logic or reason?  
“I’m still waiting for the real reason you have come, doctor.”  
“I’ve already told you why I’m here.”  
“And I have told you that I don’t believe you.” Garak shifted against him, and Bashir felt suddenly cold in the sweltering room. There was no mistaking what was pressed against his thigh–the length of the Cardassian’s erection was heavy against the fabric of his uniform. His body responded in kind, in spite of his best efforts. Garak continued. “I’ll make this easy. I’ll say why I think you’re here, and you tell me if I am correct.” His voice had a deceptively sympathetic tone to it. “I think you’re here because Starfleet thinks it can use me in this little war it’s having against Cardassia and the Dominion.”  
“That’s absurd.”  
“Is it? I know what your precious Captain thinks. In spite of my most sincere efforts, your little crew still doesn’t trust me.”  
“Can you blame them?”  
The blade tickled his throat again. “I didn’t say you could ask questions.” Bashir felt the knife move from his throat and he swallowed, a small wave of relief passing over him. He heard Garak laugh, dark and low. “I must say I’m a little disappointed. For all of your enhancements and training, it’s going to be so easy to break you.”  
Bashir's heart leapt in his chest- whether in fear, excitement, or some combination of both he wasn't sure. “Alright, Garak, you’ve had your little joke, now let me go.” The doctor tried to wriggle free, but the momentary release of Garak’s hands only allowed him enough time to turn around and have his back pressed to the wall. He looked at his captor; Garak’s pupils were blown wide so that hardly any of the light blue irises showed in the dim room. He hadn’t seen that look in his friend’s eyes since he had come back from Empok Nor, strung out on the psychotropic drug he’d been exposed to. With one hand still pressed to his throat, Bashir watched as Garak took the hand holding the knife and brought it back up. “I’m telling you the truth, Garak. Starfleet didn’t send me here.”  
Garak breathed a put-upon sigh. “The truth is so boring.” Bashir felt the tip of the knife against the collar of his uniform. Felt pressure, then heard the soft hiss of cloth being cut. Bashir felt the warm air of the room hit his skin, cool in the places where sweat had gathered, the uniform deftly split from collar to waist with surgical precision. “Have I not taught you anything these past 5 years? I’m only interested in pretty lies.”  
“What do you want to hear?” Bashir couldn’t help the breathy, needy, tone in his voice. Nor could he resist the urge to arch closer to the Cardassian. In spite of his flight-or-fight instinct, he craved his captor. *My self-control is pathetic*, he thought to himself. Too many hours he had spent fantasizing about being this close to Garak and his longing pushed all other self-preservation instincts out of his mind.  
“That’s not how this game is played, my lovely boy. And I told you before- you’re not allowed to ask questions.” Garak looked at him appraisingly. “You young, foolish human. So trusting. In spite of everything, you still don’t think I’ll hurt you.” Bashir felt the hand around his throat tighten, and the periphery of his vision began to shimmer as his oxygen was cut off. Suddenly he was forced from the wall, led by the neck, walking backwards until the backs of his knees collided with a low table. “If you’d be so kind, doctor. Could you get something for me? I’ve got my hands full right now.”  
Garak turned him around. “Do you see that chest on the table there? I want you to open it. Will you do that for me?” The Cardassian’s hand was pressing into his shoulder right above the pressure point, not enough to cause Bashir’s knees to give out, but enough to cause him to flinch.  
His hands shaking, Bashir reached out to the chest. The other times he’d seen it, there had been an old-fashioned lock fastened tightly on it, but now the lock hung open. “What am I looking for?”  
Now Garak’s sigh sounded long-suffering. “You just can’t get the rules, can you? You're not allowed to ask questions." He sighed again. "Very well. Never say that I am without mercy. You are looking for a strip of fabric. It is about a meter long.”  
Bashir opened the chest and looked in. Items were stacked carefully on top of each other. Two hypospray cases. Vials of liquids and powders. Several menacing looking knives. Something that looked like an old cat-of-nine-tails that Bashir remembered seeing in period cinema from his childhood. Various devices that Bashir felt sure he didn’t want to know the uses for. A case filled with isolinear rods. Stacks of paper carefully tied with ribbons. An empty box of Delavian chocolates…  
“Are these the chocolates I gave you?”  
Garak’s thumb pressed a little further into the pressure point, causing Bashir to hiss in pain.  
“Right. No questions,” Bashir said in a pained voice. At the bottom of the trunk was the strip of fabric.  
“Give it to me.”  
The doctor handed the strip of fabric behind himself, waiting for the Cardassian to take it. “Thank you, doctor.” Without warning, the doctor heard a swish past his ear. Looking up, he saw the knife embedded in the wall, vibrating. The precision of the throw was obvious as it was embedded in the narrow strip of wall between the two windows. It came to Bashir that he had never played darts with the Cardassian. While he was “enhanced” and could make the bull’s eye 99.99 times out a 100, even he was unsure that he would have been able to make a throw like that in light as dim as they currently stood in. “Now, doctor, you will see a jar near the bottom with a black label, a thesset, and a shantan. Please place them on the table.”  
“I don’t know what a thesset or a shantan is.” He said petulantly.  
“Oh, you poor child. I have been severely neglectful in your training.” Garak was again flush against his backside, causing Bashir’s sex to swell at the closeness. Garak’s breath ruffled the hair at the nape of his neck as his head rested almost gently on Bashir’s shoulder. “Do you see that flexible rod there at the back of the chest? That is a thesset. And that there?” he pointed at the lash. “That is a shantan.”  
Bashir reached out and placed the items on the table, his pulse racing.  
“Good boy.” Garak placed a gentle kiss just below his ear, sending shivers up the doctor’s back and blood down to his sex. “It is vindicating to see that you can be instructed.” As Garak put a little more distance between them, Bashir leaned back, trying to renew the contact. He heard a low chuckle. “You’d best be careful, doctor. If I think you’re enjoying yourself, I’ll be forced to…shall we say… increase the strenuousness of my interrogation.” Bashir felt the Cardassian grab the back of his uniform and roughly pull it down and off – the force of the sleeves being pulled over his wrists making them sting. In swift motions, Garak quickly bound the doctor’s hands behind him, and he was again turned to face the Cardassian.  
“Why are you here?”  
Bashir swallowed at the intensity of Garak’s stare. He didn’t just feel naked, he felt stripped, as though his very being was exposed before the penetrating glance- as though his thoughts were written all over his face. What was most embarrassing was that his thoughts incessantly returned to the aching need between his legs and the desire he had for his captor.  
“I told you. I am here as a doctor. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”  
“Come now, such a lack of imagination.” Garak placed a hand almost lovingly on his chest, caressing the skin from clavicle to hip bone. Bashir shivered at the sensation. The Cardassian’s hand lingered over his sternum- then shoved him roughly backwards with enough force that he collapsed onto the pillows that had been stuffed under the blankets on the bed. His shoulders protested as his bound hands were crushed under his own body’s weight. He watched as Garak walked towards him, looking nonchalant in his approach, but he could see the Cardassian’s hands trembling in what he could only assume was anticipation. “Surely that enhanced brain of yours can think of something more interesting.” Garak sat next to him on the bed, his erection obvious beneath the thin layer of his night clothing. Bashir found himself staring, unable to take his eyes off of the sight. He imagined the taste, the feeling of it in his mouth. He licked his lips without realizing it.  
“Oh, you humans. You’re all so obvious. No subterfuge – no challenge. Innocent and soft. It really does make one wonder how you all weren’t conquered ages ago.” He cradled the doctor’s face in one of his large hands, and Bashir found himself nuzzling into it. The Cardassian’s thumb stroked his cheek. “It’s a good thing for you, doctor, that you are so pretty. And amendable too. It almost makes me feel bad about what is to come.” Garak leaned in and kissed him, then. The doctor groaned into his mouth, hungrily pressing himself closer. The kiss was delicious, insistent and sweet, but too soon it was broken as Garak stood up and walked towards the table.  
“Lie down.”  
Part of Bashir’s mind screamed. *Now! While his back is turned!* And the other part patiently asked… *What? What will you do?* He tested the restraints on his wrists, but as he moved, they seemed to only get tighter until he felt his fingertips chill from lack of circulation.  
Garak turned back to him, the thesset held in his hands. A look of disappointment settled on his brown. “Oh dear. Here is that lack of training again.” With his free hand he pushed the pillows to the floor and forced the doctor to lay back- the cool plastic of the bed against his skin surprising in the hot room. “When I tell you to do something, I expect you to do it.” He placed the switch on Bashir’s chest. His hands traced down to Bashir’s feet, and he took off his boots, letting them drop to the floor. The doctor closed his eyes as the hands traced back up the inside of his leg, settling at the closure to his pants. He ground his teeth to resist, but couldn’t help but push his hips forward, forcing his erection against the Cardassian’s hand. “Oh, you little wanton,” Garak muttered. Bashir felt the thesset removed being lifted from his chest, and then felt the sting as it connected with his stomach. His muscles clenched and his breath escaped through his teeth. The switch was again placed on his chest. “Now, be still.” Garak’s voice was gentle, as though Bashir was a puppy that needed gentle reminding. Bashir felt the hands return to the closure on his pants, and used every bit of his willpower to refrain from moving. Slowly, he felt himself stripped, his erection exposed to the air.  
“Now let’s try this again. I’m going to instruct you. And you’re going to do what I say. Are we clear?”  
Bashir just nodded.  
“Good. Now I want you to turn over,” Garak said as he picked the switch up from the doctor's chest.  
Bashir stifled a groan. His arms were numb from being trapped underneath him. He attempted to shift himself onto his side, but wobbled and fell ineffectually back, the movement causing pins and needles to run up and down the lengths of his arms. Swish. The thesset slapped on the bed right next to his face, and his heart froze.  
“I’m waiting,” Garak said with menace.  
"I can't," the doctor spat.  
He saw Garak's eye ridges arch, then shake his head, looking up for patience. "I must be growing soft in my old age." He walked back over to the bed and in a swift movement raised the thesset and delivered three welts on his upper thigh. Bashir cried out.  
"Oh, my sweet boy. Don't you know how this hurts me? But you have to learn." Garak stroked the side of the doctor's face with the switch "You have to learn your place. You have to learn that your only hope is to tell me what I want to know."  
"I can't tell you anything other than what I've already said."  
Garak tutted. "Well, this isn't getting us anywhere." He walked over and put the thesset back on the table. When he turned back around, Bashir saw he had picked up the lash. He flipped it over his shoulder, like the doctor had seen him drape fabric samples countless times before. He watched as the Cardassian leaned over him. He could feel the ends of the lash dangle delicately over his body. Forcing his neck to hold his head up, he watched as Garak hovered over the head of his sex. He couldn't control the whimper that escaped his mouth, but managed to keep from thrusting his hips- though it caused his whole body to shake. Predatorily, Garak smiled at him, easily seeing the need in Bashir's eyes and acknowledging his restraint. "Well, that is something, at least," he whispered, his warm breath caressing the doctor's taut skin. Instead of where Bashir wanted it most, though, he traced his tongue lazily over the reddening welts on his thighs. It stung, but even the pain was tortuous pleasure to the doctor in his highly-aroused state.  
"Perhaps, just this once, I can offer a little leeway. This is, after all, our first formal lesson. And really, your poor behavior reflects more on the lenience in my training than it actually does on you.” As he spoke, Garak flipped him over, and not for the first time, Bashir was surprised by the man’s strength. “Of course, continuing to be lenient now only aggravates the situation. It will take longer to train you. But, seeing as I have nothing really better to do on this station, I suppose I can afford a little extra time.” Once Bashir was off of his back, the feeling returned to his arms, making him grit his teeth as they came back to life. “One does wonder, though, how someone so “enhanced” can’t understand simple instructions…” Garak began to stuff a few pillows under his torso, pushing him into a more-or-less hands and knees position. As Garak pushed the final pillow under his hips, he allowed his hand to brush the doctor’s erection, tearing a moan from Bashir’s throat. He buried his face in the pillow and couldn’t help but thrust his hips into their soft resistance, his mind driven only by the sweet pleasure released with each brush.  
Distracted, he didn’t even hear the whistle of the lash. Suddenly white sparks of pain flashed across his vision as the leather connected with the skin on his back and arms. He wailed. “Garak Stop!”  
“Stop?” Garak sounded confused.  
“Yes! This has gone on long enough.” He felt the Cardassian’s hands gently touching him, down his back, between his legs. It made him shiver.  
“What was it you told me once? Something about a “magic word?” Garak’s voice sounded dreamy and distant.  
“Please,” Bashir whispered.  
Garak’s hand teased the sensitive skin between his balls and his sex gently cupping him. “What was that?  
“Please.” The doctor’s reply was more whimper than anything else.  
“Please what? Please stop?”  
Bashir scrunched his eyes tightly. “No… Please… train me.”  
“Good boy. I do believe you might just learn yet. So let’s try this again, shall we?” Bashir felt the pillows underneath him shift, and Garak’s hand began to stroke lazily over his cock. It took every ounce of willpower not to move in sync with the Cardassian’s ministrations. “You have said that your presence in my quarters - at a very unsociable hour - has nothing to do with Starfleet. You have said you came here simply to check on my wellbeing. I find this hard to believe. What possible reason could a young Starfleet officer have for “checking in” on a highly suspicious person such as myself?”  
“Because you’re my friend.” Bashir whispered against the pillows, feeling as though his mind was breaking with the slow, unrelenting pace that Garak was setting as he stroked him.  
“Your friend? Really? That doesn’t seem right. A suspected Cardassian spy and a prim and proper Starfleet doctor? What on earth could we possibly have in common that could sustain a friendship? Surely you suspect that I am just using you? For information or…” Garak smacked his backside with an open palm. “… favors?”  
“I don’t believe that.”  
“Perhaps you don’t want to believe it. Perhaps the Starfleet brainwashing, which instructs its sycophants to see all others as potential friends and allies, has left you completely blind to the fact that the galaxy is a harsh and uncaring place. That it has left you completely unable to see that sometimes people act simply for the pleasure of causing pain or advancing their own goals.” The movements around the doctor’s cock ceased and he groaned. The lack of contact, the words, and the callous manner in which they were spoken hurt. Bashir shook his head. “No.”  
Garak crouched in front of him, looking directly at him – his eyes wide, and Bashir felt he would drown in them. “No? But isn’t that what your other friends would have you believe? That I am not to be trusted? That you should avoid me? How many times has Chief O’Brien warned you to stay away from ‘The Kardy spy’? Or Major Kira called you a fool for associating with me?”  
“It doesn’t matter what they think.”  
“Of course it does. They only have your best interest at heart.”  
“Maybe. But they don’t know anything about us.”  
“What don’t they know?”  
Bashir closed his eyes and didn’t say anything.  
“Come now, doctor. We were doing so well.” Garak tilted Bashir’s head back, kissing him gently on the corner of his mouth. “Tell me the truth, Julian. What don’t they know about us?”  
Bashir lunged forward, pressing his lips to the Cardassian’s, their teeth knocking harshly together. He could taste blood from a split lip, whether his or Garak’s, he neither knew nor cared. The feeling of slightly dry, smooth lips moving against his, the amazingly flexible and serpentine tongue which seemed to be trying to pry the truth from his mouth with its thorough investigation. He relished the feeling of losing control; the release of emotion and the letting go of fear were so heady that it didn’t even allow for thoughts on how his actions would be viewed by his instructor/captor.  
When Garak broke the kiss, Bashir felt pleased at how out of breath the Cardassian was, and at the wild, passionate light that colored his gaze. As helpless as the doctor was- trussed and exposed- the obvious effect his actions had had on his captor felt like a victory.  
“You’ll pay for that.” Garak’s voice was low and breathy and menacing. He stood, his sex at eye level with Bashir’s face, his night clothes barely containing his erecction, the fabric moist with pre-come.  
“You should make me suck you. That would teach me.”  
Garak chuckled. “I don’t take suggestions from you.” He walked out of Bashir’s line of sight, scratching grooves deeply down the doctor’s flank with his fingernails. “And what on Prime would your fellow officers think if they heard you say such filthy things?”  
“Should I ask them?”  
“Oh, now he’s impertinent! I see I have my work cut out for me.” A rain of swats hit Bashir’s backside. Too fast to count, the burning skin of his ass made the air leave his lungs in little gasps. With the small part of his mind that was still able to think, he wondered how he would ever be able to sit in the morning.  
Bashir heard Garak walk back over to the table. He wondered if it was time for the lash again. He tried to brace himself, knowing it was practically impossible to do so.  
“Alright, dear boy, spread your legs.” Garak’s voice was behind him, the thesset tapping between his knees. With effort, he complied and felt the Cardassian kneel between his legs, and then…  
Nothing.  
No sounds, no movement. He waited – the anticipation coiling in his stomach and his back still burning from the stripes inflicted.  
When his expectation could no longer be withheld, he asked timidly. “Garak?”  
“Hm?” In contrast to the shakiness of his own voice, Garak’s sounded calm, dreamy, distracted. “Oh, yes, we were in the middle of something, weren’t we…?”  
Bashir heard the jar being opened and abruptly felt warm oiled hands on him, tracing the welts on his back. Whatever was in the jar smelled earthy, with hints of cinnamon, and after a moment the warmth of the oil started to penetrate his skin. The sensation was intense… heat and tingling, just shy of burning. He arched into the Cardassian’s hands as he was rubbed from his shoulders to his upper thighs.  
“Garak?” His voice sounded strangled in his ears.  
“What?”  
“Please?”  
He heard Garak chuckle. “Please what?”  
“Please. Touch me.”  
“I am, my precious one.”  
“You know what I mean!”  
Garak signed. “If I were a more thorough instructor, I would punish you for your impatience.”  
Bashir groaned.  
“Why did you come here, boy?” Bashir felt the Cardassian’s hands rub teasingly down the crease of his ass. Bashir couldn’t help himself and he arched into the touch.  
“I told you. I came here to check on you.”  
“Why did you come here tonight?” Garak’s fingers danced on his hole.  
“I just wanted to see if you were OK…”  
“Why did you come here tonight?” Bashir could hear Garak begin to stroke his own cock, and the sound of the oiled hand moving over the Cardassian’s heated flesh made the doctor feel lightheaded.  
“I only wanted to chec…”  
“Why did you come here tonight?” Bashir felt Garak’s fingers penetrate him, stretching him with an aggravatingly slow pace. The heat from the oil focusing all of his attention to the feather touches that teasingly brushed oh-so-lightly on his prostate.  
He moaned, unable to stop himself from pushing his hips higher in the air in the hopes of more sensation. "I had to make sure..."  
"Why did you come here tonight?" Garak bent over him, his voice insistent in Bashir’s ear.  
He couldn't stand it anymore, and he thrust his hips back to impale himself further. “I came here to get fucked!” Bashir yelled.  
Garak growled in satisfaction. “And you will be, my dear.”  
Garak's fingers were suddenly gone, but before Bashir could even think to protest, he felt the head of the Cardassian's sex at his entrance. Garak's lips and teeth were at the back of his neck and then he was there, inside him. Bashir stifled his moans by burying his face in the pillows.  
His whole body felt electrified, heat sparking from the lashes on his body and Garak’s powerful strokes- his mind unable to process anything but the cascades of pleasure overtaking him.  
He felt the familiar fire building in his stomach, the intense stimulation already building to a crescendo when one of Garak’s hands began to stroke him. The feeling of the Cardassian’s strong hand gliding across his skin and the sweet warmth from the oil made Bashir feel like he was dissolving – his whole being unraveling.  
The sharp bite Garak delivered to the back of his neck sent Bashir over the edge. Like the sudden flash of the wormhole, the explosion of a supernova, his mind blanked and he was enveloped in a feeling of completeness.  
Lying bonelessly on the pillow, the doctor felt Garak’s fingers press into his hips as the Cardassian silently spent himself. After a beautiful, still moment, Garak moved off the bed and untied the doctor’s hands, rubbing soft circles with his thumbs over the indentations made by the straps and bringing feeling back to his wrists and fingers. As though he weighed nothing, Garak picked the doctor up, holding him close to his chest, and, after nudging the pillows aside, he set him gently down. Bashir smiled up at his lover as the Cardassian began to heal the welts he had raised.  
“You don’t have to start that just yet,” B said drowsily.  
Garak raised his eye ridges at him. “Are you sure?”  
“Mm-hm.” Bashir scooted back and patted the bed, beckoning Garak to join him. “I mean, it was sort of the whole point of this game.”  
Garak rolled his eyes, but lay down and pulled the doctor into his arms. “And is it what you were expecting, love?” Garak asked as he smoothed the dark hair down and placing a gentle kiss on the young man’s forehead.  
“Better than I could have imagined,” Bashir said as he nuzzled closer to his lover. “I knew from the holosuites I liked being handcuffed, but this was… well, something else entirely.” His body still ached, but it only served as a reminder of the pleasure he had felt. "Is that what you did? When you were in the Order?"  
Garak looked at him incredulously. "Heavens no! First, you never did actually confess anything, and if I was still in the Order, you would have, my dear. Second, only half- rate operatives would have used such… obvious means. The infliction of pain- while offering clear incentive-often muddles the truth. The key is to get the suspect to want to tell you the truth. When they view you as an enemy, they will resist.”  
Bashir thought for a minute then smiled at Garak. “So is that what the last five years have been, then? Luring me into viewing you as a friend, only to get me to freely give you the truth?”  
Garak chuckled. “And what truth am I trying to get from you?”  
Bashir looked up at him. “That I love you?”  
The tailor inhaled, his eyes widening. “And do you?”  
The doctor smiled. “I’d like to tell you, but I think you’re going to have to work a little harder for me to tell you the full truth.”  
Garak sighed in mock resignation. “I should have known that you wouldn’t give me what I wanted in the first lesson. For all of your human failings, your resistance is impressive. I shall just have to be more…convincing next time.”  
“I look forward to it,” Bashir said as he kissed him.

**Author's Note:**

> I am late coming to this series- but Garak and Bashir are so obviously meant to be together- glad others think the same.


End file.
